what a mess (part 1)

yellow and brown index finger skin
black that won't come out from under
the windows broken the door is ajar
and i'm pickled in the tragic basements of america

small shreds of paper with all knowing verse
39 cents
sick from wine and time and friends and lovers
desperate to break away

theres a girl over there who knows the music all too well
i watch with great anticipation of her next sultry move that i'll beat my head against the wall over
remembering for days thinking goddamn theres such a beautiful innocence to the sexuality that she basis all this on

i drink to everything in sight
i'll be on a bus someday listening to head phones and just trying to get out of whatever hell i've let loose around me
that same old song will come on and i can cry

"jerk off in the bathroom or in a woman with the help of a movie about birds your lives are all sing song happy shindigg shit house idiocy and who am i but a cautious observer and a reckless participant